Kiss Me KiKiKiss Me
by ThePointGirl
Summary: James Cobb's life through the kisses he's recieved. From a innocent child to a flirtacious teenager. James Dominic Cobb grows up. Better than the summary
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Don't own.

* * *

On James' first day of school his dad crouched down in front of him and James blinked up at him. He didn't want to go when he woke up, and clung to dad all through breakfast. But getting in the car, James calmed down. In his head James said he wasn't going to cry; he was going to show his dad how brave he was.

'Make me proud, yeah?' dad said, and James saw the smile, making him smile too.

'Yep. Daddy, I need to go inside' James protested, nodding earnestly, swinging the lunchbox and blinking up at his dad.

'I know you do' dad stroked James' hair, a funny look on his face. Dad placed a kiss on his forehead, hugging him tightly, then standing up. 'Off you go. I'll pick you up later. Be good' dad said louder. James said goodbye, waving, and turned around walking slowly to the big gates.

When he turned back around, dad didn't think James could see him, but he could. Dad was crying. Dad was proud of him.

* * *

When James was seven, he liked a girl in his class. Her name was Molly. She was nice, kind to him, sat next to him, and quickly became one his best friends.

She helped him in art, he helped her in maths. She was shy but talked a lot to him, so James didn't mind.

They played together in the playground when James saw her sitting on her own on the bench. He left his friend and went over to her. He asked her if she wanted to play with him and they played hopscotch and catch until the bell rang and lunch ended.

In spelling class, they held hands, smiling secretly at each other because no one knew. Her hand was smaller, warmer, James felt happy.

He told his teacher that he wanted to make a card for Molly for her birthday and she helped him. Molly loved the card, went all pink and hugged him in the middle of the playground. He hugged her back. She kissed him on the lips. A little press that made James feel all tingly. His first kiss. Molly danced off to show her other friends James' card.

* * *

At the fumbling, slightly awkward, shy age of thirteen, James was shoved into a closet for 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with a girl who apparently had a crush on him. He was the 'pretty boy' with blond bangs in his eyes, and a secure group of friends.

She was nice, he supposed James never gave it much thought. She was the popular girl in his class who was loud, confident. She had him up against the side of the closet, pawing at him, pressing into him. She was one of the girls who got what she wanted, so James melted and went with the flow.

He was thirteen, hormones all crazy, she had kissed him but he deepened it. With a hand twisted into her brown hair, James took the situation in stride and tried his best. It was wet, fast and all over too quickly as the door was thrown open, the light of the room hitting him. It was quick make out that left James a bit dazed.

* * *

James was sixteen when he was kissing a boy a year older than him who hand his hand on James' thigh.

Before this, the boy had been muttering low in his ear, tracing his cheek and making James quiver with need and anticipation.

He was hot with green eyes and short hair, and James had never felt like this for another guy before. Not really, not that you could make anything of it.

For some reason, the boy had set his eyes on James and James had whimpered under his touch. All the girls he'd seen with the boy, all the ones he checked out and flirted with, James was the one moaning into his mouth. With an expert curl of his tongue, nip at his lip sent James on cloud nine.

James broke away, breathing heavily. The boy's eyes were dilated, his gaze predatory and focused entirely on James. So James slipped to his knees, hands on the boy's belt.

The boy's name was Dean… Dean something.

* * *

He'd kissed a girl's hand on a Caribbean cruise at a dinner dance in order to try and be gentleman. The girl blushed brightly, giggling behind her other hand and he winked at her. It was at the bottom of the grand staircase, the girl had curly deep red hair and a gorgeous smile. She was English, too, but had spent time in America.

Thinking back, it reminded him of the Titanic. The movie, not the ship obviously.

* * *

When he was around his friend Lucy's house, he looked at his watch and his eyes probably went comically wide.

'Shit. I'm late, dad's going to go nuts!'

What he was late for, was a family dinner, and if James didn't show up kind of on time he would never hear the end of it. Lucy just grinned amusedly, kitchen towel in hand.

He shucked on his jacket, rushing over and placing a hasty kiss on the space next to her nose, his balance off. 'Bye' he called, hearing her laugh following him outside.

* * *

At the age of eighteen, standing at a bar, sipping a magherita when a man in a dark suit - probably Italian - and carefully styled hair, who was most likely a top CEO or businessman stepped into his space. It was one of those places, a higher class bar, not really James' thing but he was bored. The man was smooth, to the point where he made James squirm in his seat.

'What do you say, can I have you?' he asked, but his grip didn't make it a question, it made it an imperative.

He really didn't want to go, he knew the consequences of going with a random man, late in the evening to God knows where.

'James, sweetheart, you know I don't share' and honestly that made him jump.

Eames stood directly behind him with a sharp smile aimed at the man. James relaxed and leaned back to Eames.

'Sorry, I forgot' Eames threaded his hand in James' hair, twisting his head, kissing James posessively and slowly.

Yeah it was all for show to make the guy go away, but James took what he could get. It was Eames.

The guy left - after a bit - but Eames didn't drop him home, but leaned near him asking:

'Want to come back to my flat? Can I have you?' in a gruff British accent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **Kinds of interlocks with the end bit of chapter 1.

* * *

If James had actually studied for his Psychology exam, he would know that that a psychoanalytic study of himself should worry him senseless. The key word being _if. _In talking to a counsellor – provided by his school for the Sexual Health Week, yeah – James became enlightened and then thoroughly bored, in that order.

The typical, case by case, questions were answered and the lady in front of him ticked boxes or wrote little notes on her clipboard. It was straight out of an American thriller.

'James, do you have an age preference?' she asked, blinking owlishly at him, and showing a little smile.

'I'm sorry, what?' he was listening, seriously, but he hadn't expected that and he wasn't precisely sure as to what she was asking either.

'You are seventeen years of age. Therefore what I want to know is who is the oldest person you have you done anything from a kiss to intercourse with or you have fantasised about?' and James let the question sink in.

He could lie, but then she would most likely be able to tell if he was lying which would make the entire situation pointless. So he thought about it, and then nodded in silent agreement with himself, before he answered her question.

'46' he said simply and the look of shock on the counsellor's face was near laughable.

What a pity that he was telling the truth, otherwise this would be a story to tell.

'46? Good-god' she noted something down, whistling lowly. 'Could I ask-?'

'Just a kiss…' he gulped, clarifying it.

'Right. Okay, may I ask the gender of this 46 year old?' she asked and James put his tongue in his cheek.

'A guy' James said, carefully not mentioning that this man was also a friend and colleague of his father, and they are both con men. He had his strategies, sort of.

You see, there are four new memories now stored in his subconscious for the rest of his life. All of which include James kissing someone.

Now, he could be an absolute prat and brag to the high heavens but he wasn't like that. He just etched it up as character formation and a way of finding out who he was. He liked people and he liked to flirt, and most of the time people liked him.

* * *

The first instance was Christmas Day last year and… well… here it is.

Phillipa and James weren't techinically children anymore, although grandma would disagree eighty percent of the time. However, mulled wine, champagne and whiskey were being served at the Cobb household which was currently buzzing with people. How it should be. It's the most wonderful time of the year, after all. Soft Christmassy songs were playing in the background and James soaked up the atmosphere, whilst trying to persuade granddad to play cards with him.

So it was all pleasant, dinner was really good and bad cracker jokes were repeated for good humour.

James wanted to put his glass in the kitchen sink, seeing as he was just holding it with no contents. So he slipped out of the living room, avoided getting nabbed by a very clingy aunt, and made it to the kitchen. The quiet was nice, subdued, and James put the glass in the sink, sighing.

He turned around walking to the door when he bumped into Ariadne. Quite literally. She was talking to someone still in the living room, so she hadn't seen James. They did this awkward dance that you have to do when doorframes aren't built big enough. Ariadne is like a slip of a woman but still, the wine can't have helped.

'Enjoying yourself?' she asked, smiling sweetly at him. James nodded. 'Good. I'm just getting some apple juice for this' she held up her glass of – something, James didn't know what it was meant to be but Ariadne seemed to enjoy it. Perhaps it was an adult's thing.

'Do you want me to get it for you?' he asked and she patted his arm in what James would later describe, a condescending way.

'Such a gentleman' she said and James raised an eyebrow.

'Really? How much have you had Ariadne?' he teased and she rolled her eyes.

'No where near enough to not know when someone is taking the mick' and James nodded, she was hardly _drunk, _just tipsy.

He did his duty and fetched the carton of apple juice, handing it over so Ariadne could measure out exactly how much she wanted. He wanted to ask why she was adding apple juice but he decided against it.

They walked to the door when James noticed something hanging from the frame. It looked like a shrub of… oh. It was mistletoe.

He coughed, smirking to himself before losing the expression as Ariadne turned around to face him. He pointed wordlessly to above her head. She followed his direction, tilting her head back to see.

'I wonder who put that up there?' she wondered and James shrugged in complete innocence because it wasn't him. He had an idea that it was Phillipa's doing, but he could be wrong.

'I haven't the faintest. Tradition's, tradition' he smiled and she threw a glare at him.

'No way. We are not doing that' she said firmly, one hand on her hip, her dark blue dress hugging her small frame. She was gorgeous. James hadn't given it much thought previously.

'Why not? It's a kiss. I've had to kiss Johnny for less than _tradition' _and he really wished he hadn't said that. Ariadne's eyes went mischievous.

'Really?' and he growled at her. Not that this had an effect, her grin just got wider. She would never let that go now. Not ever. Oh wonderful.

'Yes' he replied firmly, 'so are you now going to bolt for the living room?' he asked, and she hummed, breaking eye contact for a few moments, before stretching out a hand, clasping his shirt and pulling him forward.

So that's how it was going down?

He dipped down to catch her lips, cradling her jaw with his hands and feeling her auburn hair soft, entwine in his fingers.

It was everything Ariadne Oliveir, soft, caring and sweet. Of course Ariadne was not a push over, she stood her ground.

James pressed closer to her – still keeping in his mind that this was not just some girl from school - and ran his tongue along her lips, asking for entrance. Which he got. For about ten second, before Ariadne pulled away and wished him a Merry Christmas.

That was that. Ariadne went back into the living room to join the celebrations, leaving James to form the summary that, that was not his finest hour. Ariadne had been the first girl – sorry – woman, to actually pull away and play well. Tradition is tradition.

* * *

In a hospital bed with a broken leg because some huge rhino named Simon charged into him on the soccer field, James was not looking forward to the next 6 to 8 weeks. At all. Reading, listening to some music, trying to have conversations with the nurses that weren't being a surrogate mother… or father actually, James shuddered, was all he saw happening. Apart from the visits he got from his friends – Johnny and Harry mainly but also Emma – and family, he was stuck with big chunks of his day unfilled because someone was at school or work somewhere.

James was working his way through James Ellroy's LA Confidential, when there was knock on his door. He expected it to be one of the nurses to bring around his lunch, he got a pleasant surprise.

It was Arthur. Looking like he had just flown in from Milan or Buenos Aires from a business meeting, which was unlikely, but not beyond the realms of possibility.

'Hi Arthur. I haven't seen you in while' he said, and Arthur threw a warm grin his way, sitting on the chair, pulling it closer to James' bed.

'I was in Italy when I received a text telling me that you had a collision on the soccer field' Arthur eyed the cast, his eyebrows inching to his hairline.

'Yep, that is pretty much what happened. I'm not little, but I don't think soccer's my game. Not got the body' he grimaced, shifting in his seat and bookmarking his page in the book.

'You're built like me, skinny and gangly. Play to your strengths' Arthur commented, and James agreed, mentally taking a note to quit soccer once he was out of this pathetic cast. It was not worth the pain.

'I will in the future, thanks. So, how has the incredible world been since I've been locked up?' he asked. Arthur laughed in response, looking down to his knees and then back up to James.

'Well there was hurricane' he said dismissively with a straight face, joking of course. James chuckled, noticing the twinkle in Arthur's eyes.

'Oh I think I missed that then' James shrugged, flashing a grin. 'Any jobs?' he asked tentatively, receiving a scowl. That was the Arthur way of telling James off, he was getting immune to it slowly.

'If you must know there's one in Dubai' Arthur replied, watching him sceptically.

'Need an extra hand?' James offered knowing the answer will, undoubtedly, be…

'No. For several reasons you can't join me on this job. This is ignoring your current incapacitation' Arthur said, sensibly as usual.

James sighed in defeat, it was worth a try. 'Well if you ever need a PA or something' he mumbled, now sure the medicine was making him dumb and slightly sleepy.

'Of course. You can be my male Miss Moneypenny' and that was two jokes in not ten minutes, Arthur clearly enjoyed being around James otherwise he would not be saying things like that. The fact that Arthur was here was a bonus, the mediocrity of seeing the same faces day in, day out when you can't move and haven't got much interesting to say bored him.

'Thanks for recommending LA Confidential by the way' James tapped the book with his left hand. 'It's really good. Dad doesn't know I've got his Flemming books' he made the universal 'sshh' signal.

'Not a problem, I'm just glad you are looking well. I know this is probably the last thing you want to have to do. But you were sent some mock papers and a text book by your school' Arthur bent to fiddle with his bag, pulling out the objects he described. James peered.

'Oh, Chemistry! Thanks Arthur' and he grabbed the book off the shocked point man that looked like someone had told him the 'status quo' had been rearranged.

'My pleasure' Arthur sounded cautious and worried, 'You like Chemistry?' now he looked non-plussed.

'Yeah, didn't dad tell you?' James said proudly, skimming past the pages of the text book.

'Ah, James, I promised someone lunch so I apologise but I'm going to have to leave'

What happened next was what would later be called bad timing. James turned his head sort of left and up, knowing that Arthur was now standing over him. He was about to reach out and hug the man, but things went rather skewed that point on.

The angle was all wrong, and what he supposed Arthur had meant was a goodbye or take care kiss on the temple.

As James moved, the kiss was planted on the corner of his mouth. It was warm and very, very, weird. The feeling still made James blush though, he wouldn't deny it. Arthur was Arthur so this sort of thing, with a man like Arthur, could be disastrous.

'That wasn't meant to happen' Arthur was flattening his blazer, looking worried.

'Yeah. Don't worry about it'

'Are you sure-'

'Yes. I am. It's fine and I know you didn't mean to -you're going to be late Arthur' James didn't want to sound like he wanted the man out of the room, he just didn't want the man to be late for his lunch. Especially for James.

* * *

The final one, the latest, had a backdrop of a bar filled with people, alcohol and most importantly pool tables.

James had asked Eames – who had promised him a drink a while back – if he wanted to play pool. So they did. It was casual, calm, and not really competitive just talking and winding the other up. It didn't matter that James may have checked Eames' nice ass in a pair of dark jeans as he bent to take a shot. He was a teenager and Eames was the type of man he'd happily drop to his knees for. James shook his head, clearing that thought just as Eames missed a shot, muttering a curse.

James grinned, speculating his shot and then going for it. He lost, even though it wasn't a proper game. James put it down to experience and practice. Eames leaned on his cue, thinking.

'I have an idea, sweetheart, we'll play for real' he said, blue-grey eyes pinning James in his spot.

'Really?'

'Yes. Don't worry, I won't clean you out' Eames crooned, 'We'll set wager of what $30?' and James spluttered.

'Is that it? I was worried you were going to say a $1,000 or something' he laughed, feeling light headed and happy.

'I haven't finished' Eames said. James paid attention. '$30 to me if I win and you agree to anything I say. The same goes of course if I lose' and James felt vulnerable and very much like prey all of a sudden. The forger grinned, slyly.

'Whatever you say, I've got to do it?' James asked sliding the pool cue between his hands undecidedly. 'Okay. Deal' James said, reaching over the table to shake hands with the man who obliged.

That was it, it was all or nothing. Yes he had the money, but did he have the guts to do anything Eames said? James felt his body skyrocket, but his concentration switched as Eames broke the triangle and the game began.

At the beginning it went well, James played to his advantage, placing the angles so it was hard for Eames. The man knew what James was doing, obviously, and the smirk he saw when he tore his eyes away to glance up before a shot told him everything.

Eames began to play in a meaner sort of way, no longer being friendly. Regardless, James was able to match his dashing opponent in skill and creativity.

James was unsure, but to alleviate his mood, he thought of ideas if Eames lost against him. The few that blurred his mind left the boy nearly leering and his skill on top form. Ha.

To an outsider, James could only guessed what he and Eames looked like. Saying that James had once been chatted up by a man who could give Michael Douglas a run for his money. Which, he decided, was not something he wanted to dwell on.

The table was almost even, but James had the itchy feeling that he was losing and fast. Because of this when he was able to make a shot he missed the ball! The thing skittered across the table like a confused dormouse. James watched in a resigned nature.

'You're in a bad sit there mate' a guy said, who in looks, reminded James of the guy who played Bobby in that tv show Supernatural.

'I know. Damnit'

'Got a lot riding on it?'

'Only my dignity' he said, to which the guy gave him an odd expression over the top of his beer.

Unsurprisingly James lost. After all, look at who he was up against. Eames stood to his full height, stretching like a cat and then slump to settle his eyes on James. James reached into the pocket of his tie dyed jeans and held out the $30 from his wallet to the forger. Eames didn't take the money straight away, just analysed James for a second longer.

'You did make a few rookie mistakes' Eames said, licking his lips which just drew more attention to the plump, red – 'but you agreed and you knew full well what you were doing' the man mused. James wondered whether Eames was going to sink the wager and leave it at the money. His heart was doing odd stuttering, his face heating up under the gaze.

Eames left the pool cue where he was, and walked round to sit on the edge of the pool table right next to where James stood.

'Kiss me' Eames said, so lowly that James had to look at the man's face to make sure he heard right.

'And that's the –'

'Anything I say. I say that. Are you doing it or not, darling?'

If Eames kept putting darling at the end of sentences to James, James would happily do anything the man wanted.

The man obviously wanted James to run off like a child, not brave enough to kiss another man in a bar. Yes it was LA not cowboy Texas, but still, you never know.

Well, James reasoned with himself, trying to get his heart to stop hammering, if Eames was hoping James would turn around and walk off, the forger would be proven wrong.

'Look, James honestly-' the forger didn't end that sentence as James stepped between the V of the man's legs, hooking his fingers into the man's belt loops and finally kissing the man.

In case you want to know, Eames' lips were as tasty as they looked. The guy had the mouth many women would die for. When evolution created Eames, it created perfection. No more redesigning. Eames. James just wanted more and more of Eames. Beer, coffee and caramel filled James' senses, and when the kiss got deeper, he flattened his hands onto Eames' chest, feeling the hard chest. It made his knees weak. He finally pulled away, trying to tune in the sound of the bar, looking about curiously. No one batted an eyelid.

'Gosh, you do appear to have surprised me' Eames said, sounding distant.

'I try'

'I didn't believe you would do it. Well done my boy' Eames said, and then he leant forward to whisper in James' ear. 'Can I taste some more of you, or is that out of the question?' he asked.

Bastard. Already knew the answer to that. 'No it isn't out of the question' James said, the man leaning back to look directly at James again.

Eames cupped James' jaw with one hand, and just by that action James knew he was in for a good night. There was a tinkling sound, then Eames held up the car keys.

'Go wait in the car for a moment sunshine'

* * *

That was it. The next instalment of James' life. The counsellor looked partly suspicious as if she didn't believe him, but that's it. All there for you.

People say blonds have more fun: it might be true.


End file.
